


Equinox Flower

by KivaEmber



Series: Wine Cellar [54]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Childhood Trauma, Crimes & Criminals, Dubious Morality, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Physical Disability, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaEmber/pseuds/KivaEmber
Summary: Giftfic for Surfacage.Aza's life takes an entirely different trajectory than it did in another life: he never left Kugane, he didn't kill Lord Musa until far later in life - and became the much feared Black Widow of Kugane in its criminal underworld. A powerful mafia boss with a warped perception of the world and its inhabitants, he now contends with an average Miqo'te broker sent to him from Ul'dah called Lo'kha Sehnlla...
Series: Wine Cellar [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/860528
Comments: 17
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is an AU of Aza. I've had this AU kicking about for AGES. basically a 'what if' if he never managed to escape Musa during childhood. As such, he is very different in some aspects, but also the same in others. His personality is a lot more warped, and he basically uses his good looks as a shield and weapon, whereas 'canon' Aza tended to cover them up to shun unwanted advances. His injuries are also a lot more severe and is practically crippled, with his legs so shot he requires leg braces and a study arm to lean against to walk about comfortably. 
> 
> Well, unless he he gripped tight by bloodlust. Then he is surprisingly mobile hmm
> 
> Anyway~ this is WoL/WoL basically, updates will be sluggish, uh, enjoy?
> 
> (PS here is the art that helped inspire me to right this uwu https://twitter.com/declinant/status/1219950997788712963 )

It was that time of year again. 

Aza sighed quietly as he stretched his aching legs out, hearing the creak of leather from their braces. That time of year, the anniversary of what was both the best and worst day of his life, the day where he had finally learned to become the snake his master spent oh so many years unwittingly shaping him to be.  _ That man _ had thought him thoroughly broken, but instead Aza had festered, rotted, turned  _ venomous. _

He huffed out a silent laugh, picking up his tea cup at that thought. Mm. Venomous indeed. 

Yet the title bestowed upon him by Kugane’s underworld was not  _ snake, _ no matter how apt it was. Black Widow, they whispered, a carnivorous cannibal, who would devour their own for its own survival. Also apt. Aza clawed his way through much of the underworld until he perched at the very top, untouchable, feared,  _ free _ . 

(safe) 

This anniversary always left him in an odd mood. Something to celebrate, since it was the day he buried that ugly, unsightly beast that had been his master, but it was also the day where he ruined himself in the same action. Master’s death had resulted in him being tossed into the gutter like the used toy he was, where he had crawled in the filth like a starving, mangy dog, preying on those like himself until...

Hm. 

To think back on those times filled him with a grim, vicious satisfaction. In the end, no matter what he did, he survived and  _ thrived _ . Not many can claim that achievement. 

Aza’s ear flicked when he heard a noise from beyond the sliding doors of his sitting room. He lazily turned his head from the garden his window overlooked to see one of his underlings open the door and kneel respectfully at its threshold. 

“The Syndacite’s broker has arrived, boss,” the Hyur said. 

Toshi. One of the new blood from Doma, Aza recalled. He sipped his tea and set it back down, slowly tucking his legs back under the volumunous silk of his kimono. Time to don a new skin for this meeting. 

“Send him in,” Aza said, and Toshi bowed low enough that his forehead almost touched the tatami, before vanishing with barely a sound. 

“Shinobi,” Aza muttered, leaning back until he was sprawled almost supine against his mountain of pillows and cushions. It was all about presentation, these meetings. The Black Widow of Kugane had to be confident, alluring, seductive… but carry a dash of vulnerability. Those who took the bait of weakness were those who weren’t fit to survive in the underworld of Kugane. Those who remained wary and kept their distance were worthy of living. 

Aza smiled. Such a neat way, to sort the stupid from the wise. 

He didn’t wait long for the broker. Toshi returned to announce their presence, and stepped aside to allow in a  _ Miqo’te _ of all people. Huh! The Ul’dahn traders tended to rely heavily on their Hyurs to broker their deals for them, and honestly, Aza had gotten bored of them fast. The last one, especially, had stepped on his nerves with how often he threw about the word  _ exotic _ while staring at him… 

(Which was why Aza had, pointedly, sent that broker back in five separate shipping crates)

The Miqo’te broker seemed to pause when he entered the room, clearly thrown by Aza’s appearance. He was average height for their kind, ginger, stubble, a bit worn looking and dressed in  _ blinding white _ robes. He had cute ears, Aza mused idly, taking him in with a few quick glances and decided he’d suffice well enough as interesting eye candy for a week or two at the very least.

Luckily, the Miqo’te broker swiftly remembered his manners. With the smallest shift in weight, the broker dipped into a somewhat stiff Kugane greeting. A little too low considering the social gulf between them, but Aza let the faux pas slide. 

“Lord Aza,” the broker greeted, “I am-”

“The Syndicate broker sent by Lolorito, to negotiate mutual benefits, blah, blah, yes, I know,” Aza said impatiently, having heard that spiel too often to tolerate it again, “Name?”

The broker straightened up, and his face was  _ too _ still, his bewilderment betrayed by his rapidly blinking eyes. Aza could practically  _ feel _ the barely swallowed ‘um’ before the broker answered; “Lo’kha Sehnlla.” 

“ _ Lo’kha Sehnlla, _ ” Aza purred, sounding out every syllable. As the last broker would’ve said, it sounded  _ exotic _ , a little different to how he’d assumed it be, when he saw the name written down before. His tail flicked, peeking out from the numerous folds of his kimono, and he saw Lo’kha’s eyes dart to the abrupt movement, like a prey animal watching a predator’s every move. 

Aza smiled. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,  _ Lo’kha, _ ” he said warmly, leaning that little bit more to the side to allow the collar of his kimono to slide further off his shoulder. Lo’kha, he was amused to see, did not take the bait. Instead the broker stared stonily ahead, his jaw clenched. 

Hrm. 

“Take a seat,” he continued, gesturing carelessly to the empty spot across from him. Tea had already been served in the guest cup, though at this point it was stone cold. Not that Lo’kha seemed overly eager to take a drink as he sat in the usual Eorzean way - cross-legged. Normally one would sit  _ seiza _ , but not even Aza was cruel enough to enforce that protocol on his guests. Well, unless they annoyed him. 

Lo’kha had not yet hit the ‘annoying’ threshold, so Aza decided to be a good host for once. Lazily, yet still maintaining a languid sort of grace, Aza sat up, tucking back a lock of wayward hair that tumbled into his eyes, and reached for the still piping hot teapot. A few empty tea cups were arranged artfully, so Aza chose one and poured the tea in the traditional way that was carved into his muscle memory from his days as Master’s toy. Perfect, precise, allowing a peek of skin to entice and seduce. He couldn’t pour tea in any other way, the habit so deeply ingrained. 

But it was fine. Aza used it for his own benefit. 

A slope of the shoulder, a lift of the elbow, enough for the kimono’s collar to dip and bend, allowing a tantalising flash of his firm chest, if one was brave enough to take the glimpse it offered. Lo’kha did not take the glimpse. Instead, the poor broker’s jaw worked even harder, his gaze drifting somewhere past Aza’s ear until the tea was poured. 

Hah, it was funny. If the broker had treated him with indifference, Aza would have known his tastes simply didn’t run that way. But, there were reactions, which meant he had a chance to toy and tease until he got bored enough to get round to these dull trade negotiations Ul’dah’s Syndicate wanted done. It made him feel thoroughly pleased with himself as he set the pot down, and gestured to the teacup with a flourish of his wrist. 

“Help yourself. It’s, ah, ‘Black Shroud Tea’? It has some pretentious name I don’t remember, but it is from that area, blessed by the Elementals or some rot like that.” 

Lo’kha looked as if he was about to say something - but he didn’t, swallowing the words as he glanced at the tea like it was a ticking time bomb primed and ready to blow in his face. A fair caution since Aza had a terrible habit of poisoning people on a regular basis. 

“No need for that look,” Aza hummed, “It isn’t poisoned, see-” he picked up the teacup and took a sip. He left a lipstick mark on the rim, a flush of pink that stood stark against pale white china, “Safe.”

He set the cup down, nudging it towards Lo’kha. 

Reluctantly, after being prompted by Aza tilting his head pointedly, the broker picked up the tea, awkwardly holding the delicate, thin china with his rough hands. Calluses, a few tiny nicks of scars in the creases, pressing and flexing as they rotated the cup so Lo’kha could sip from the side clean of lipstick. Not that he did take a sip, frowning as he was at the tea’s scent. Probably marvelling at the familiarity of it, as the tea was from around the region he was born. 

(Aza, of course, knew well in advance who was coming to replace the previous broker, and did his research - just in case)

Aza let him mull over the ‘coincidence’, hopefully let some paranoia fester in him, and lifted his hand, snapping his fingers. Like a domesticated spirit, Toshi appeared with his pipe, and Aza took it without looking, biting the end of the stem as he took a long, deep drag. 

“So,” Aza said after a very long pause, exhaling smoke through his nose, “You’re the… fifth broker Lolorito has sent so far. You’re either very confident in your skills to sway me where your predecessors failed… or you fear Lolorito more than you fear  _ me _ .”

Lo’kha set the tea back down. His shoulders lifted in a short, tense sigh, “I  _ work _ for Lord Lolorito. He ordered me to broker this deal, so-”

“Ah. He says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high?’” Aza asked, and didn’t wait for a response, “Well, nevermind. We’ll see if he chose correctly this time.”

He took another long drag, holding it for a moment, before slowly blowing little rings. Hm. 

“Let’s talk business, then,” Aza decided, “Have you the amended proposal?”

“Ah- amended?” Lo’kha winced, clearly having not intended to verbally stumble like that.

“Amended,” Aza shot him a smile, warm and lovely like a sleeping poison that whisked your life away amidst golden dreams, “I  _ did _ send my criticisms with one of the last broker’s body parts. The foot, I think.”

Lo’kha swallowed. Aza saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, his pulse fluttering visibly at his throat. 

“Well,” Lo’kha coughed shortly into his hand, “The, er, foot it was delivered with, ah,  _ bled _ all over the note you sent. So…”

“Oh, really?” Aza tutted, “How sloppy of me! I thought all the blood had congealed at that point, but I guess not.” 

Lo’kha made a complicated expression. Like he had stubbed his toe while being constipated all at once. It was thoroughly fascinating to observe, and Aza found himself openly grinning at the sight. Oh, okay, he was having too much fun at this broker’s expense, but really, he made it too easy. 

“Well, that’s my mistake then,” Aza said simply, “I’ll kindly overlook any unsatisfactory parts of the proposal on account of my  _ sloppiness _ , and deliver my criticisms directly to you so we can amend it together.”

Lo’kha did not seem overjoyed at receiving any kind of criticism, direct or otherwise, “Um.” 

“No need to look so worried,” Aza drawled, “Verbal.  _ Verbal _ criticisms. I’ve gotten bored of killing Ul’dahn brokers, so you’ll remain unmolested. Mostly.”

“Oh,” Lo’kha said dully, “Good.” 

“Now,” Aza gestured lazily, slouching back into supine on his pillows, head resting on an upturned palm as his kimono threatened to spill open from his sprawled position. Again, Lo’kha’s jaw twitched. Hm! “Deliver your pitch. Tell me why I should allow the Syndicate to exploit the Black Market here.”

Lo’kha took a short breath, nodded to himself, and delivered. 

He was a lot calmer when speaking, more indifferent and professional, Aza found. He didn’t respond to any of his friendly ribbing or prodding, and his flirting got blanked entirely! It was the subtle reactions, though, the jaw clenching, the sharp inhales, the way he would stare hard over Aza’s shoulder, that betrayed him. His will and drive to remain professional and distant despite his obvious  _ attraction  _ was actually kind of admirable. Refreshing, almost. 

…

Kind of annoying too. Aza wanted to see at least  _ one _ blush. 

But… there would be many more meetings after this. Aza bit the stem of his pipe as Lo’kha started explaining that the market prices of Somnus in Eorzea were much higher than in Kugane, backed up with a lot of boring statistics. Yes, many more meetings, and many more opportunities to prod and poke at Lo’kha’s limits and boundaries. Besides, it’d be boring if he cracked him on the first day. The challenge was alluring in its own way. 

Aza had not been challenged in too long. Even wrangling Kugane’s underworld had become… predictably dull nowadays. There was no one left with the balls to stand up to him. Oh, the woes of being an iron-fisted, invincible tyrant! 

He blew out an elaborate smoke ring, smiling to himself. 

Yeah. He was gonna have fun with this new toy of his. 

* * *

Lo’kha already wanted to go home. 

Lord Aza was not what he expected at all. He expected someone intimidating and imposing, maybe an old grizzled Hingan warlord or something, considering what happened to the old broker. But no, instead there was…  _ him _ . 

Beautiful and stunning, surprisingly young-looking, with every gesture perfectly tailored to amplify his allure. With how he lounged and how his attendants buzzed around him like worker bees serving their queen, Lord Aza came across as more bark than bite. Smoke and mirrors making him seem more powerful than he actually was - but, Lo’kha was Syndicate, and therefore not stupid. 

A guy didn’t become king of Kugane’s Underworld by being weak in any kind of way. Everything about Lord Aza was calculated and intentional, and past the facade of delicate beauty was a sharp-fanged predator eyeing him up with a burning hunger. Lo’kha didn’t want to be in any way, shape or form, a tempting snack, so he kept his gaze focused straight ahead, ignored the  _ collarbones _ and the way Aza bit his pipe stem, painted lips leaving glossy imprints on the polished metal, and thought only of numbers and figures.

Luckily, there were a lot of numbers and figures to hide behind in Lord Lolorito’s proposal. 

“So, importing your product to Eorzea would ensure higher revenue, as market prices are almost double there,” he said, ensuring his voice was set at the lowest, dullest drone he could manage, “Lord Lolorito is content with a 25% cut-”

Lord Aza scoffed, “He’ll only get a cut that large if he manages the shipping too.” 

Lo’kha fought down a grimace. That wasn’t going to happen, “You still profit more from-”

Lord Aza sharply waved a hand, “I’ll think about it later. Right now, this talk is boring me.”

Cold sweat rolled down his back, and Lo’kha somehow managed to stuff his thumping heart back down into his chest cavity from where it lurched into his throat. He’d been warned beforehand of Lord Aza’s capriciousness - which would be  _ fine, _ if said capriciousness didn’t occasionally manifest into  _ murderous intent. _ If Lord Aza didn’t dismember people who displeased him, he poisoned them, or made them walk off one of Kugane’s many piers with cement shoes. It just depended on his  _ mood _ . 

_ If he poisons me, I could probably survive that, _ he thought detachedly, as he watched Aza pick up his teacup and take a sip. There was a dark smudge on the rim from his lipstick, and when Aza lowered it, his bottom lip was glossy from moisture. 

Lo’kha looked up at the ceiling, swallowing. Fuck, he really would’ve preferred the old grizzled Hingan warlord instead of  _ this _ .

“How about, we speak more intimately?” Lord Aza murmured, his voice honeyed and venomousness all at once, “I already like you a great deal more than that last broker, so-”

Lo’kha did not know if this was good or not. 

“-I’d like to know you better!” Lord Aza finished with an enthusiastic flourish of his hand still holding the pipe. Smoke swirled in dizzying wisps, and Lord Aza returned its stem to his mouth, biting on it. Such a bad habit.

“...there’s not much to learn,” Lo’kha said neutrally, staring hard at the bright red ornament in Lord Aza’s hair, “I’m very dull.” 

_ Please find me dull, _ he mentally begged, trying to telepathically convey this command to Lord Aza through sheer determination alone. 

“Psh, I’ll be the judge of that,” Lord Aza said imperiously, “At the moment, I find you  _ very _ interesting.” 

Fuck. 

“Firstly, Ul’dahn brokers are rarely Miqo’te,” Lord Aza continued, “We have a reputation of being flighty and easily swayed, you know. We are, after all, only good for fucking, to be a lovely piece of eye candy for the other races to consume ‘til their hearts’ content.”

Lo’kha stayed very still, his gaze shifting enough to take in Lord Aza’s expression. The mafia lord was smiling at him, but it was an empty, cold one, his eyes dark with an ugly, dangerous emotion that made Lo’kha feel like he was in the shadow of a stalking behemoth.  _ Do not move, _ his lizard hind-brain squeaked. 

Lord Aza exhaled something that was probably a laugh after the long, taut silence stretched between them, tapping his finger against the long stem of his pipe. 

“No comment? Ahhh, I guess it’s a bit too on the nose,” Lord Aza murmured, “But, what I meant was, you must have some extraordinary quality, to be picked as a broker. Maybe it’s your self-control?”

Lo’kha leaned back by a micro-fraction, fighting the urge to just. Slowly. Butt-shuffle his way out of this room without Lord Aza noticing. Somehow. 

“I’m. Professional,” he said a bit dumbly. 

“Professional!” Lord Aza barked out a rough cackle, “Oh, that’s one way of saying it! You’re as uptight as a priestess’s chastity belt, and about as eager to rip it off too.”

Lo’kha stared, “What-”

“Your poker face is good, but your body betrays you,” Lord Aza clarified, “Maybe tighten the control over your subconscious movements, mm? You fist your robes every time I bite my pipe, like…  _ this… _ ”

Lord Aza bit his pipe, a glimpse of his fangs behind his lush, painted lips. Lo’kha stared before he forcibly ripped his gaze away, exhaling harshly. Belatedly, he realised he was clenching his fingers into his robes, creasing the fabric. 

Fuck.  _ Damn it _ . 

“Heh,” Lord Aza seemed more amused than insulted, though, and tapped his pipe against the edge of the table, “See? Oh, but don’t fret. I’m used to people looking at me with such eyes. It doesn’t bother me at all.” 

Considering what he said before… Lo’kha felt an uncomfortable squirm in his belly, slowly redirecting his gaze back over Aza’s shoulder, “Sounds troublesome,” he said flatly.

“Advantageous, if I use it right,” Lord Aza said idly, “But, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about  _ you _ . Being a handsome individual yourself, you too must endure such looks, mm?”

Oh,  _ gods, _ why. Lo’kha never before wished for a freak meteor strike to smite him from existence as badly as he did right then, “Er. No. I. Don’t.”

Lord Aza’s eyebrows rose, “ _ Really _ ? Gods, Eorzeans must have shit tastes.”

Lo’kha cleared his throat, and valiantly tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters, “So, the 25% cut-”

“I mean, you’re not stunningly beautiful,” Lord Aza continued blithely, like Lo’kha hadn’t said anything, “But there is a very, hm, rugged look to you? I like how broad your shoulders are, and those hands seem very  _ dextrous _ -”

Meteor. Now.  _ Please. _

“Aha!” Lord Aza made a cute, adorable laugh of victory, clapping his hands together, “There it is!”

“W-Wha-” Lo’kha stammered stupidly, feeling metaphorical steam coming out of his ears. That. Laugh. Okay, no. Kugane had to outlaw that laugh. 

“Your face!” Lord Aza settled back against his pillows, his eyes crinkled in a warm smile, “It’s so red. You blush very vividly, it’s nice.” 

Lo’kha closed his eyes, like this would help his situation in any way (it didn’t), and sucked in a deep, bracing breath, “ _ So, _ ” he gritted out, semi-aggressively, “The 25%  _ cut _ .”

“Yes, yes, okay, fine,” Lord Aza said easily, “You’re cute, so fine. I agree to the cut.”

Lo’kha determinedly filtered out the ‘cute’ comment, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, “Good. In which case-”

“But  _ only _ for the somnus,” Lord Aza cut in silkily, “The crystals? Oh, those are a bit more precious.” 

Fuck’s sake. 

Lo’kha chanced opening his eyes. Thankfully, Lord Aza didn’t ambush him by ripping his clothes off or anything (ugh, why did he-  _ think that _ ), but he was staring very intently at him, like he was a butterfly he very much wanted to pin down.

“That requires more negotiation, I think,” Lord Aza continued, “But not today. No, I’m too tired to continue right now. Ah, come back tomorrow- about noon. We’ll have a  _ business meal _ together.”

Lo’kha’s brain was already spawning nightmare scenarios of what sultry mischief Lord Aza would get up to when food was involved, and desperately asked Menphina for strength. Maybe he could- get Hancock to go in his stead. Surely, a man who had lived in Kugane for years could deal with Lord Aza far better than he. 

(Lo’kha was going to be terribly disappointed, as, armed with knowledge of Aza’s true nature, Hancock was not going to touch any job involving the Black Widow with a ten thousand yalm fulm pole)

Lord Aza chuckled quietly to himself, looking far too pleased with himself, “It was nice meeting you,  _ Lo’kha. _ Remember to bring a gift with you next time, mm? It’s only polite.”

Lo’kha felt a thrill of alarm, before realising Lord Aza was just fucking with him, and quickly hid his scowl by bowing where he sat. It was awkward, and he probably did it wrong, but Lord Aza made an amused sound rather than an insulted one, so. 

“Thank you for having me,” he said stiltedly, and rose to his feet. As he left, he felt Lord Aza’s eyes follow him until he left the room. 

He shuddered. 

He  _ really _ wanted to go home. 


	2. Chapter 2

As per usual, Aza woke up long before dawn touched the horizon. 

It was to the quiet darkness of his bedroom, roused by the sharp, agonising throb in his legs from sleeping in one position too long. He sighed quietly, too used to the pain, and slowly sat up from his nest of pillows and stuffed toys, peeling back the duvet. 

His legs were ugly as usual. Scarred, abused things, the dark skin marred with pale, bumpy lines from years of torture. Master had very much enjoyed rendering Aza helpless whenever the mood struck him, watching him crawl on the floor from torn up legs too weak to hold his weight, making him beg for sips of potion to make the pain stop…

Such cruelty. Aza learnt well from him, though.

He pushed his hair back, blindly patting on the floor next to his futon until he found his hair tie, and roughly bound his hair into a messy ponytail. It was close enough to morning that he might as well prepare for the day… 

With grim experience, he wriggled his way out of bed, crawling towards his vanity desk setup closeby. In the privacy of his bedroom he saw no point in putting up a strong fa ç ade. It wasn’t worth the agony of straining on his useless legs, so he slithered like a snake on its belly, dragging his legs behind him over the polished wooden floor until he reached his low, squashy chair before his vanity desk. He heaved himself up onto it with a grunt, wincing at the twinges of pain lancing through his knees. 

But the agony became a distant, ignorable thing when he got to work. The dull-eyed, exhausted face that gazed at him from the mirror transformed into the painted perfection that was the Black Widow, just as dawn began filtering through his window. The red sunlight caught in his hair, and Aza smiled at his reflection, gently tucking the crimson spider lily ornament in place just in front of his ear. 

There. His armour was donned. He was ready.

A gentle knock on his door. The day was officially starting. 

“Come in!” he called, turning away from his vanity desk to see his second in command step inside, “Ah, Bluebird. Good morning.”

“Mornin’ boss,” Bluebird greeted, sliding the door shut behind her. She was an unusual Au Ra, a Xaela, with black scales and navy blue hair, her body powerfully built compared to the daintier Raen. Aza had known her from when he’d been nothing, the pair of them feral predators who joined forces in the gutters of Kugane. Bluebird brought the brawn and brains, and Aza brought the cruel ruthlessness necessary to survive in Kugane’s filthy underbelly. Together, their meteoric rise through the underworld had been legendary.

Despite her brash, domineering personality, however, she easily yielded to him when the only rivals they had left were each other. She had supported him ever since as his second-in-command, and was, honestly, the closest thing Aza could call a friend… if his withered, frozen heart was ever capable of viewing a person as such. In any case, they were monsters together, and Aza loved her in his own warped, twisted way. 

“Delivering today’s schedule, are you?” Aza asked, stretching his legs out and digging his fingers into the aching joints to relieve some of the tension, “Oof, tell me I’m not busy…” 

“Sorry, but today’s jam-packed,” Bluebird slouched into sloppy attention, her scarred mouth quirking in a grin, “Let’s see, what’s first? Ah, yeah, there’s a meeting with a Confederate envoy in less than an hour. They’ve hiked their tithe again and want a percentage of our profits into Yanxia. New management came in and took  _ umbrage _ with our old agreement.”

“Ugh, they’re never satisfied, are they?” Aza grumbled, “Fine. Confederates. I may ask the chef to prepare some pufferfish for them...”

“Next,” Bluebird said, not batting an eye at Aza’s mumbling, “Is the Sekiseigumi meeting. It turns out one of our operations stepped on some  _ bakufu’s _ toes, and now their boss’s gotta present someone as a scapegoat. Smooth down some feathers, y’know?”

“Sekiseigumi?” As usual, Aza’s heart lurched, a feverish kind of hope blooming as he asked; “Will their envoy be-”

“No,” Bluebird said firmly, but not unkindly, “No, it’s the usual guy.”

“Ah,” Aza looked away, the hope curdling in his chest. He caught his reflection grimacing back at him, and he forcibly smoothed his expression, painted lips quirking into an empty smile, “Of course it is...”

Bluebird hummed, and carefully hurried the topic along, “After that is lunch, your business meal with the Syndicate guy. Are we making a point with this one?”

“No,” Aza sighed, studying his reflection. He was, of course, perfect, but  _ kami _ , no amount of makeup could hide the subtle signs of age. He might have to start getting creative in another few years or so, when his crow’s feet started to get a little deeper, “He’s amusing. He’s got a cute blush.”

Bluebird rolled her eyes, “A cute blush.”

“You should’ve seen it,” Aza looked away from the mirror, resting his chin on an upturned palm as he grinned at her, “Bright red! He’s also a bit of an odd one too… so, I think I’ll keep him around for a bit.”

“Of course,” Bluebird muttered, “I bet you’ll get bored of him within a week.”

“A week!” Aza turned his nose up imperiously, “Two, at least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bluebird rolled her eyes, “Anyway, after that you have a new clan that’s introducing themselves. It’s the old Dragon’s boy, y’know, the one we robbed blind way back when.”

Aza fished about in his memory for a face to ‘old Dragon’s boy’. Truth was he robbed many people blind, way back when, until he had clawed high enough on the bone pile to outright take what he needed from the lesser prey that flocked around them. For such a  _ civilised _ city, it was so savage. Yet, ‘old Dragon’ could only mean one person, the Underworld Lord Aza had  _ deposed _ with extreme humiliation, so...

“...ah,” he remembered, “Him.”

“Mhm,” Bluebird’s smile carried a hint of cruelty, “Him.”

Aza laughed quietly, “Ooooh, I wonder if he’ll try to assassinate me? He must be  _ seething _ still.”

“My little birds say he has a doll made in your image that he regularly stabs with pins,” Bluebird said dryly, “I mean, we did ruin his life and reputation after what we did to his father… I’m amazed he managed to create a new clan, really.”

“A decade is long enough for the common sheep to forget such things, I suppose,” Aza said idly, not really caring either way, “But, maybe he will let bygones be bygones?”

Bluebird’s snort said exactly what she thought of  _ that, _ but, really, it wasn’t that far-fetched. Kuganites were insane about honour and all that rubbish, but you needed some level of emotional detachment to survive in the underworld. To pursue a vendetta against the Black Widow was to lose, and anyone clever enough to crawl out from under the humiliating shame Aza buried  _ that _ family under wouldn’t do something so stupidly suicidal. 

Or maybe they would? People did irrational things when it came to families… 

...

Aza frowned when his thoughts spun in  _ that _ direction, and gave his head a hard shake. No need to dwell on that right now. 

“Boss?”

“Mm, I’m fine,” Aza said, lifting his arm pointedly, “Just gasping for some tea. Help me up, will you?”

Bluebird gave him a knowing look, but didn’t press. She wordlessly helped him up onto his weak, trembling legs, acting as his crutch without a word of complaint or hint of judgement. Ah, Bluebird, however would he survive without you?

( _ You wouldn’t, _ a poisonous little voice hissed in the back of his mind, one he ruthlessly squashed. He would’ve. It’d just be in a  _ different _ way) 

He put such musings out of mind. No, he needed to focus today. So many aspects of his persona to juggle through, such a long day to appear strong despite feeling like his body wanted to crumble in on itself. Oh, how tedious and exhausting it was, to be the most powerful man in Kugane! 

Aza smiled to himself, a twisted kind of satisfaction bubbling deep inside of him. 

Honestly… he wouldn’t have it any other way. 


	3. Chapter 3

Come morning, it took every scrap of willpower for Lo’kha to suppress the urge to flee on the next ship to Eorzea, and instead he grimly prepped for his (maybe poisoned)  _ business lunch _ with the Black fucking Widow. 

His mood wasn’t helped by the fact that he’d slept  _ horribly _ the night before. From dusk until the bruising pink of dawn, his traitorous brain had churned over every detail he recalled of the Black Widow; red lips, glossy imprints on his teacup and pipe, the flash of sharp fangs behind that venomous smile, those yellow eyes and dark, full eyelashes, his fucking  _ collarbones… _

Fuck those collarbones. 

Why, Lo’kha quietly despaired,  _ why _ was the deadliest and most  _ unpredictable _ crime lord in Kugane so fucking (dangerously)  _ beautiful?! _

These woes dogged him as he left the inn he had stayed at (he had politely yet firmly rejected Hancock’s offer to stay at the Ruby Bazaar, as that man’s slimy personality was so potent it was at risk of physically manifesting into actual ooze). They  _ hounded _ him as he fretted his way through the markets, trying to find that  _ gift _ Lord Aza had bluntly told him to get, thinking what the fuck would even entice the man-

No. Not entice. Please.  _ Placate. _ Enough so that Lo’kha wasn’t going to finish his day admiring the underside of Kugane’s piers, at least. 

There must be something at these markets. Kugane, being blessed as it was with abundant trade and neutrality so absolute it was offensive, had practically everything the world had to offer, so long as that piece of the world had a plank of wood and a makeshift sail capable of docking here. Stalls and shop fronts were crammed shoulder to shoulder in the long, near endless street that was the  _ Kogane Dori _ , the early hours of the morning not stemming the thick crowd at all. 

The variety offered plenty of choices. Unfortunately Lo’kha was plagued by the fatal condition called  _ indecision. _

Incense? No, most incense tended to be harsh on a Miqo’te’s nose, and Lo’kha hadn’t sensed any perfumes in the Black Widow’s compound. Hm, pipeweed, maybe? No, Lord Aza probably had the highest quality, far better than what you could get from the markets. Ah, tea? No, same problem. Hair ornament…?  _ Make up _ ? A tourist knick knack?? 

Lo’kha rubbed a hand aggressively through his hair. What did you get a man who could have whatever he wanted? 

His frustration deepend the further along the market he went, his heart sinking lower and lower until it felt like he was in danger of trodding on it. Nothing leapt out at him, and he had to fend off a few overeager hawkers from trying to drag him into admiring their wares when he made the mistake of lingering longer than a nanosecond. He wasn’t sure what-

He froze when his eye caught on something, a glimpse of silk with patterns of belladonna, and it was like a thunderbolt.

_ That _ was it. 

Utilising the skills he learnt in Ul’dah’s markets during bargain sales days, Lo’kha elbowed his way past a few shoppers and stopped in front of the stall. It was tiny, not very impressive, and fairly cheap looking, but Lo’kha’s gaze didn’t waver once from the patterned silk he spied. On closer inspection it was an obi, quite a small one for a narrow waist, in the colours of a deep bruise. The belladonna patterns glittered faintly, and Lo’kha pinched the edge of it, rubbing his thumb over the stitching. 

It wasn’t high-quality - learning to discern Sunsilk fakes gave Lo’kha a keen eye for fabrics - but it wasn’t insultingly cheap either. This was… yes. This was it. 

At least… he hoped this was it. 

Maybe.

Probably. 

* * *

Lord Aza’s compound wasn’t any less imposing in the light of the morning. Yesterday, Lo’kha had come here when twilight had been settling in, the setting sun casting ominous, dreary shadows over the plain high walls of the compound. This morning, the sunlight made the walls glaringly bright, and the gate guards stood at still, silent attention, their lupine eyes tracking his every move as he approached. 

Lord Aza, Lo’kha had come to realise, employed a lot of Lupines. After the fall of Doma their standing had fallen quite a bit in Yanxia and Hingashi, so it wasn’t uncommon to see them working with smugglers or as mercenaries out in the Ruby Sea. Lord Aza capitalised on that  _ heavily _ . 

In fact, Lord Aza didn’t seem to employ any native Hingashi at all. His minions were a wide mix of various races from foreign lands, and Lo’kha wondered what the reason for that could be…

He was jolted from his thoughts when one of the Lupine guards stepped forwards, blocking his path. At a looming eight foot, Lo’kha had to rock back on his heels to look up at the beastman glaring down at him past a long, dark snout. He clutched tight at his parcel against his chest, like it would morph into a physical shield, and tried to arrange his face into an expression that was more friendly and less ‘I am sweating so much from nerves my whole body feels uncomfortably lubricated’.

The Lupine’s nostrils flared, a glimpse of white fangs peeking from behind black lips. They looked sharp enough to rip his throat out.

_ ‘My’,  _ an inane part of Lo’kha’s brain twittered nervously,  _ ‘what big teeth you have, grandma!’ _

“You were here yesterday,” the Lupine said, deftly slicing through the growing awkward silence, “Hrm, Syndicate.” 

Lo’kha gaped. He was fairly certain he didn’t meet this Lupine last time, “How did you-”

“I never forget a scent, especially one so… salty,” the Lupine’s dark lip curled for a fraction of a second, “Your kind sweat too much.”

Lo’kha had no idea what to say to that. He was too busy trying to mentally will his sweat glands to dessicate to save him from further humiliation. 

“I was told to expect you for late morning,” the Lupine continued, crossing his swarthy arms and pointedly looking up at the sky. The sun was still sluggishly rising over the city’s skyline, “It is just past dawn.”

“I, ah, thought I should arrive early, to be. Polite,” Lo’kha said stiltedly, belatedly realising that coming so early was a) suspicious, b) possibly rude and c) batfuckingly stupid.

The Lupine came to the same conclusion, judging by the look he was giving him. 

“Polite,” the Lupine repeated slowly. 

“Polite,” Lo’kha parroted back, somehow managing to fix a smile.

They stared at each other for a bit. 

“...you Eorzeans are strange,” the Lupine decided, “No wonder your kind are short-lived.”

“Uh,” Lo’kha not-squeaked. 

“Shisui,” the Lupine turned away, jerking his head at his fellow guard. A rush of Hingashi left the Lupine’s lips, and ‘Shisui’ made a short, amused noise, nodded, and then slipped into the compound with a flick of his tail. Lo’kha had a strong suspicion he had just been mocked in some way. 

“Um,” Lo’kha tried again. 

“We will see if our Lord will allow you to wait inside,” the Lupine explained, “He has a garden you can while away in, until he sees fit to meet with you.”

“A garden,” Lo’kha said blandly, oddly not surprised by this revelation. He could already envision it, a nightmarish land full of toxic plants and ten million malboros with roses sprouting out of their gross tentacles or something. 

“It is lauded as the most beautiful in all of Kugane,” the Lupine said, his tone utterly bland as he added, “This is due to the fact that corpses make high quality fertiliser.” 

Lo’kha stared at him, uncertain if the Lupine was fucking with him or not. He wasn’t very good at reading the beastman’s expression. 

“We will see if your stay there is permanent,” the Lupine finished, baring his teeth in a ferocious smile that blurred the line with a snarl, “Our lord’s patience with the Syndicate has been  _ short _ these past months.”

“...” Lo’kha shifted back a fraction, “Perhaps I’ll come back  _ later- _ ”

“Toji,” a voice barked, almost sending Lo’kha leaping out of his skin, and the gate guard from before stuck his head through the gap in the doors, “Our guest has been invited inside.”

Oh for  _ fuck’s sake _ -

Lo’kha couldn’t very well run away, now that Lord Aza was aware of his presence (and how did this guard get a response back so quickly?! So unfair!), and he gritted his teeth in poorly concealed frustration before he forced his expression to blank. Okay. It’s fine. You’re just sitting in his garden. His garden full of dead bodies. Dead bodies that belonged to people he killed. Dead bodies that have been mulched. For. Fertiliser. 

_ What have I done to deserve this? _ He thought despairingly, before remembering;  _ Oh. Right. I work for Lord Lolorito.  _

Shit. What a time for karma to catch up with him, though. 

The Lupine, Toji, turned to him and jerked his head, “In you go. Our Lord will see you once it is closer to the appointed time.”

“Thank you,” Lo’kha said insincerely, slinking past him with hunched shoulders, feeling like he had a sword dangling mere ilms from his neck. He was going to be grey by the time noon rolled around. 

When he stepped into the compound, following Shisui to the Corpse Garden (as he dubbed it), the squeaking creak of the gates closing behind him sounded like a death knell. 


End file.
